


John Wick; Marked and Milked

by EccentricAuthors



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Background Helen Wick, Bisexual, Canon-Typical Violence, Gay, Hand Jobs, High Table, I'm only tagging non-con because John's consent isn't explicit, M/M, Milking, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EccentricAuthors/pseuds/EccentricAuthors
Summary: John Wick has caused a disturbance in the High Table and it has garnered a lot of attention, including the attention of a private investigator, Scott Mercer, who has been tasked by the federal government with tracking his movements.
Relationships: John Wick x Original Male Character, John Wick x Self Insert, John Wick/You
Kudos: 7





	John Wick; Marked and Milked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Friends who challenged me to write this](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Friends+who+challenged+me+to+write+this).



John Wick was in trouble. What kind of trouble, Scott Mercer couldn’t tell, except for that the High Table was somehow involved. The High Table, as Scott liked to think of it, was a para-militant organization that operated almost entirely separate from any world government. Structurally, they were simply organized. The High Table being the highest authority, and those underneath the table were any and all hired guns with various levels of ascendency. There was a third category, however, acknowledged by the High Table. Those who were beyond the table; civilians with normal lives and jobs. Scott Mercer was considered one of them, being a private investigator employed by the federal government and tasked with tracking and monitoring the High Table. John Wick was of increasing interest to Scott’s work, given how the only recently retired assassin had abruptly returned to work. This would have not been of any important significance to Scott, plenty of retired assassins who worked previously with the High Table found themselves drawn back into the fold, but it was the peculiar and potentially catastrophic circumstances for which Wick was returning. 

John Wick’s home, as reported by the police, was broken into late in the evening of twenty-fourteen. Wick had not reportedly been injured and the invading party had fled the scene, but on closer inspection and questioning of the officers who reported this incident, Scott had the feeling information was intentionally being withheld. Scott suspected that the intruders were associated with the High Table and another unnamed third party Wick had involved himself with. The trail of bodies linked to John Wick that followed raised even more red flags, and that was the precise moment when Scott began tracking his movements.

Shortly after this, John had begun dropping names of significant authority within the High Table, his motive still unclear to Scott. What could have triggered such a prolonged episode of violence from him, Scott could not imagine. John Wick was on file as a person of interest prior to his recent activity, however it was because of his remarkable number of high profile, high risk operations he involved himself with, and how efficiently he executed them. Never once on recorded file had John Wick, seemingly unprovoked, turned the gun back on members of the High Table. 

The High Table was not unaware of what was happening, Scott knew, and it was just a matter of time before they struck back. They were undoubtedly waiting for their moment to effectively wipe John Wick from the face of the earth.

And, just as Scott suspected, the High Table took some action against John, because now he was hidden away in some shitty sub-basement room and not the Continental, where all employees of the High Table found solace. 

Scott waited, waited hours for John to emerge from his room and venture out. It didn’t matter where John was going, Scott just needed enough time to break into his room and search for anything that might give him a clue to exactly what was going on. Because, Scott had a hunch that whatever John was doing might shake the very foundation of what the High Table was built on. 

Eventually, Scott, from his parked car across the street, spotted John slip out of his door and down the sidewalk. He was dressed discreet, but it was clear John had taken a good beating or two. His face was littered in cuts and there was a slight limp in his gait. Scott waited until John was out of sight and climbed out of his car. He quickly crossed the street, lightly touching the small pistol holstered at his hip and immediately worked on opening the door.

Breaking and entering was illegal under common law and ethics of private investigators, but Scott felt that he could circumvent the legality of how he collected evidence farther down the line. Evidence that the largest, most prominent paramilitary organization in the world was on the verge of collapse because of a singular man —John Wick— was something Scott was not willing to give up for the sake of legality. 

With a soft  _ click _ , the lock to the door opened and Scott slipped into the apartment. The interior was dim, wet and smelled vaguely of mold. A bed was tucked away in the darkened corner, away from the front windows, along with a dresser. The bathroom was off to the side, small and grimey. John Wick was most definitely not receiving aid from the Continental, or anyone with high prominence below the table. 

Scott began to search around immediately, inspecting the furniture and knocking against the walls for hollow spots. None of which he found. Scott moved to the bed, sticking his hand underneath the mattress and feeling around. He felt something papery brush his fingertips, and he pulled it out. It was a thick roll of cash, large gold coins in the center of the roll. High Table currency, Scott acknowledged. _John was still attempting to call in favors._ Just as he was about to place the money back, he spotted a bill that looked different from the rest and gently wedged it out, only to find it wasn’t a bill at all. It was a photograph; John Wick and a woman on a beach. Scott flipped over the picture to see if there was any writing, but there wasn’t. He assumed the picture was of John and his recently deceased wife, but there was no confirming it. He sighed and carefully replaced the picture and money underneath the bed.   
There was only one place left to look, the bathroom. Scott reached up and pulled the string light, which flickered before coming to life and illuminating the space. It was cramped, the shower sharing the same narrow space with the toilet and sink. Scott’s gaze gravitated to the sink, which had a hollow underside perfect for taping something to the inner lip. He stepped over to it and bent down, looking for anything suspicious. He saw a large pouch duct taped to the underneath, and carefully pulled the tape from the sink so that he could secure it back in place later. 

Inside the pouch was a variety of painkillers, antibiotics, a stitch kit and a piece of paper with hurried scribbles on it:

_ Two for pain, one for infection. Take at night, they’ll make you drowsy. _

_ Stitch kit for when you tear them. This is all I can give you. - Doc  _

John Wick really fucked up, Scott thought. He zipped the pouch back up and returned it to its hiding place. He turned back to the shower and stood there for a moment, looking at the cracks in the tile. One was deeper than the rest, cracking along the cock between the tiles almost entirely around it perfectly. Scott reached out and gently wiggled the tile, finding it was loose. He wiggled it with more intent and popped it free from the wall. Behind the tile was a small compartment, and in it, several small guns, bullets and knives.   
“Shit…” Scott muttered, examining the small makeshift armory. He pocketed one of the bullets for examination and took note of the guns’ classifications. 

By this time, Scott became aware that Wick could be returning at any moment, and he needed to wrap things up. He quickly placed the tile back into position and brushed his hands off on his coat. He took a breath and started out of the bathroom. He was disappointed to have not found much evidence, but this was nonetheless proof that John was being cut off from the High Table. What he had been doing, and maybe continued to plan on doing, was enough to ruffle the feathers of the High Table. 

Scott’s musings were cut off short when an arm flew out from his peripherals and curled tightly around his neck. Scott gasped and stumbled back into his attacker’s hold, hands reflexively flying up to grab at the arm cutting off his oxygen. His thoughts raced, panic threatening to make his brain blank, but he managed to latch hold of a singular thought. To get out of a choke hold from behind, Scott remembered, elbow the attacker. Scott did just that, drawing his elbow forward and bringing it back down hard against the man behind him. The man wheezed wetly and wavered just long enough for Scott to tear free. He hurled forward and spun around to face his attacker, drawing his pistol from the holster at his waist. 

Scott was not not surprised to see John Wick himself, standing there arms raised in surrender. He looked tired, and the front of his shirt was turning a dark red where Scott had elbowed him previously. But, he knew not to be deceived by his pitiful state, because there was something lurking behind John’s eyes, dark and dangerous, that made a chill run down Scott’s spine. 

“Stay right where you are.” Scott directed, holding his gun steadily at John. 

John kept his arms raised and nodded in silent understanding. The blood was continuing to spread across the front of his shirt and seep through the fabric.   
“I have a few questions to ask you.”

John parted his lips to say something, but then he was suddenly falling sideways and hit the floor with a heavy  _ thud _ . Scott stood there for a few moments, blinking at the sight in front of him. He knelt down guardedly and looked the man over. He entertained the idea that he was being tricked, but when John didn’t move even as he knelt beside him, Scott realized the man was out cold. 

Scott put his gun away and wrapped his arms around the unconscious man’s torso, hauling him up from the floor and dragged him over to the bed. John was completely limp as Scott placed him on the bed, the only sign that he was alive being the steady rise and fall of his chest. What am I going to do, Scott thought to himself.

While John slept, Scott took the liberty of examining the bloody patch underneath his shirt. It looked to be some sort of stab wound, one that had been treated a few days ago, but was ripped open when Scott elbowed John. Scott reasoned that John must have been exhausted, and the pain of his reopened wound passed the threshold of how much his body was willing to put up with. He redressed the wound to the best of his ability and discarded John’s bloodied shirt. All he could do now was wait.

John only slept for a few hours. When he awoke, Scott was fiddling with his watch, and when he noticed John he turned his attention back towards him.   
“You’re awake.”

John didn’t reply, staring up at him with an unreadable look.

“You’re pretty messed up.”

A small snort from John.   
“You’ve had a bad time recently.”   
“Yeah.” 

This is good, Scott thought, he’s talking, and might continue to with the right coaxing. “Are you working again?” 

Silence.   
“I can get you somewhere safer until you heal enough, but I want you to answer my questions.”

John lurched forward suddenly, hands going straight for Scott’s gun at his waist. Scott intercepted John’s hand and caught his wrist, stepping back and dragging them both backwards onto the floor. John was on top of Scott, pressing his free hand against Scott’s cheek and trying to break his grip with the other. Scott held on tightly to John’s wrist, jerking him to the side and onto the floor beside him. He rolled on top of John and caught both wrists above his head.

The tension between them changed in a fraction of a second. Suddenly, Scott was acutely aware of how when he shifted above him John’s eyes flickered and his breath trembled. He noticed how all the previous force behind John’s actions just seconds before had melted away and been replaced by something else. 

Experimentally, Scott palmed at John’s crotch, gaze remaining trained on him. John matched Scott’s gaze evenly, a small hitch in his breath resonating when Scott touched him. This spurred Scott to continue, rubbing the line of his dick through his pants until it hardened fully. John gently arched his hips into the touch and let his head fall back against the floor, eager for more. Scott gave John a squeeze before working open his pants and allowing it to pop out of its confines. He smoothed his palm across the length and pressed it against John’s stomach, eliciting a soft moan and roll of John’s hips. 

Scott’s own erection was strained against his pants and his head was spinning at the sight of the man below him. Admittedly up close, John was an incredibly beautiful man underneath all the cuts and bruises, and it made Scott want to worship his body. Unable to resist a sudden urge any longer, Scott leaned down and kissed John’s nipple, grazing his teeth across the soft pink skin. He sucked softly, feeling the bud harden against his tongue and another moan fall from John’s mouth. 

Scott focused his attention back to John’s cock, wrapping his hand around the length and starting a rhythmic pace. He gave him long, full strokes with the occasional swipe of his thumb over the tip. While he did this, Scott continued to suck and bite at John’s nipple, aiming to leave a purple suck bruise there. John arched underneath Scott. His cock throbbed and leaked in Scott’s palm, and he unashamedly let Scott know just how good he felt through the variety of moans spilling past his lips. 

John’s breath hitched and his body tensed, signaling to Scott he was near orgasm. Instead of guiding John over the edge, he quickly removed his hand from his cock and let it fall back against his stomach. John gasped and groaned, his dark gaze meeting Scott’s own once more. Scott saw a mix of desperation and sharp annoyance, and it made a small smirk form on Scott’s lips. 

“I can’t let you off that easy.” There was no particular reason why Scott didn’t allow him to come right then and there other than he liked the way John writhed and weakly rolled his hips in search of friction. 

John let his head fall back with a small huff. His cock laid painfully hard against his stomach, aching to be touched. Scott waited until he was sure John had withdrawn from the edge and wrapped his hand back around his cock. He gave it a few reassuring strokes and set the pace once again. Scott teased John like this a few more times, bringing him right to the verge of orgasm and taking his hand away, just to watch the way John squirmed and gasped every time. And, with each time, John unraveled further, his desperation becoming more and more apparent. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, dark hair plastered to his forehead and face flushed a pleasing shade of red. Scott was just about to move his hand away for the third time, John wrenched free a hand from Scott’s loosened grip and grabbed his wrist. 

_ “Please.”  _ John pleaded breathlessly.

Scott grinned and obliged, twisting his wrist and pumping John straight into his orgasm. John’s orgasm gave way like a tightly coiled spring, cum spilling from the tip of his twitching cock and leaving stripes of white on his stomach and chest. He trembled through the aftershocks, eyes boring into Scott’s own. 

Scott released John and rolled onto the floor beside him, letting out a breath. They didn’t talk while John recovered from his orgasm, his erratic breath slowly becoming more even. 

Scott smacked his lips and looked to the side at John, whose eyes were shut. “Was that your wife?” He gestured loosely with his hand, “In the picture under the mattress, I mean.”

That made John turn his head, dark eyes opening. “Yeah.”   
“I heard she died recently, I’m sorry about that. I understand how it is to lose a spouse.”   
John turned his gaze back to the ceiling and sighed, “Yeah,” there was a pause, “Thanks.”

“I have a few other questions. I hope you’ll answer them.” 

John took a breath, “I think I will.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I was challenged by my friends to write this and nine pages later this piece was written. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> *Scott Mercer is an original character of mine and is not at all related or correlated to the John Wick series.


End file.
